


I Can Do Bad All By Myself

by brokenpromisesandhope



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Depression, Drug Use, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slut Shaming, Suicide Attempt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:56:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenpromisesandhope/pseuds/brokenpromisesandhope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU where once both parties turned fifteen, any mark that appears on one body, will appear on the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Do Bad All By Myself

**Author's Note:**

> I have honestly been working on this for months and it's nearly 3 am cause I've been trying to finish, and I've never written anything quite like this before and I took a break from writing since my last fics got some hate so please please COMMENT / KUDOS!  
> (Any mistakes are mine, I wrote this on mobile)  
> Disclaimer: this is based on my personal self harm everyone is different.  
> Xx  
> T

Mickey's gotten a lot of beatings in his life, so so many. Too many to count or keep track of. But he certainly remembers the beating that broke him.  
He lies on his bed after, ribs creaking every time he draws in a shallow breath. At least two are broken that he can feel, and he knows his face is a bloody mess. His fists are bloody too though, because he went down swinging.  
(It's the last time that he does that.)

Days later, his dad's words are still ringing loud in his head and no amount of vodka or weed could quiet It.  
"'I'm not having a goddamn fag in my house do you hear me? Marriage is between a man and a woman. Your dick is for a woman not some fucking aids monkey!"  
It's all he hears and all he sees when he closes his eyes is his father's face is filled with rage as he hits Mickey over and over, his whole being oozing 'I hate you and all that you are.' 

It's Ian's 15th birthday and the way he's bouncing off the walls had nothing to do with the piece of cake Steve snuck him for breakfast. Today is the day he gets his soul mate!  
Well he doesn't find out who his soulmate is of course, but they're connected as soulmates and in return, any mark that appears on his soulmates body from here on out will appear on his own. He sits through school barely containing himself, waiting for anything to show up, from a bruise to a paper cut to a tattoo. He gets an awful thought in his head, like maybe his soulmate isn't clumsy and no spots will ever show up.

He hates himself for thinking that when he wakes up from a biting pain on his left thigh. He kicks the sheets off, using the moonlight streaming in from his window.  
The pain starts again,  
"What the hell?" He mutters.  
His heart drops when he sees four cocaine straight scars on his thigh. He knows what they are, of course he does, he's a gay ginger on the southside. Cutting had never been his poison though, he preferred running until he couldn't breathe.  
He grits his teeth as another one appears.  
"No." He chokes. As if that would make a difference. His eyes fill with tears and he let's out a little sob of relief when his soulmate finally stops at seven cuts. 

Soulmates have always been a big part of the Gallagher household. Fiona had found Steve. Soulmates were huge to Ian and yeah he may be young and dumb but he feels like he already loves this person. At least enough for him to hate that his soulmate is this unhappy.  
He cries himself to sleep that night. 

Soulmates had never even crossed Mickey's mind. It's the last thing he'd ever think about. He knows his brother Iggy has found his, but he never really talks about it. He said he never really thought it'd happen considering he was seventeen when they met, but even she had gotten random bruises or even needle marks at one point. Mickey had gotten nothing. Not on his fifteenth birthday, or his sixteenth or even his nineteenth. He'd given up. And that's why, as he took all his anger out on his thighs, mutilating the body he hated because of what was inside, he never even thought that the scars may also be going on someone else's body. 

By March, Ian's thighs are covered. Both fronts of his thighs are filled by perfectly straight, thin but deep scars. His soulmates favorite thing to do is let the scars fully close, before they rip them open again. Ian doesn't know what to do, his thighs always ache and he cries a lot. He just wants his soulmate better. 

Mickey fucks lots of girls. He bends them over, and pulls his pants down enough to get his barely hard dick out, and pounds them. His jeans scrape against his scars and he thinks it's really the pain that makes him come. It burns and it's ugly, it's the definition of the word 'fuck'.  
You deserve this, he thinks. 

It's June and Ian's inner thighs are shredded. There's no organization to these cuts. They're overlapping, some so deep Ian has to bandage them, others barely breaking skin. These hurt. They rub when Ian walks and just when he thinks they've closed, his soul mate tears them open again. Ian needs to do something.  
Because he's a pussy, it takes him about a week to work up the nerve . It's like three in the morning, everyone is sleeping and Ian's hand shakes as he breaks his disposable razor until the blade sits in his hand, glinting.  
He takes a deep breath and starts, right under the bend of his elbow.  
'I'm here' he carves, blood springing up under the pressure. 

Mickey wakes up, hung over as usual, lights a cigarette and goes to take a leak. It's not until he washes his hands that he sees a new scar. It's on his forearm, still covered with crusted blood. 'I'm here' it says in jagged writing. "What the fuck?" 

Soulmates aren't real. They aren't. He pours himself a plastic cup of vodka and plops his ass on the couch. He stares at it for a few hours until he can't anymore. He's wasted when he takes the razor and angrily scratches over it until the words are no longer visible. 

Ian cries himself to sleep for what seems like the hundredth time. 

He doesn't try again until the scars move to his arms. They move to the underside of his bicep and they hurt when he tries to do his pull ups. He doesn't hesitate this time. 

Tears burn behind Mickeys eyes because there's a huge 'I love you' moving horizontally across his forearm and he doesn't know what that means, because he knows how he feels when his eyes are glazed over and the vodka burns his throat on the way down but he does not know love. Or why or how this mysterious person could love him.  
Mickey looks at the words for a long time. His first thought is to scratch them all out, but this person, he refuses to think soul mate, carved it so big. Probably on purpose. Mickey traces the letters and tries not to think about it. 

There's five days without any fresh cuts. Ian smiles for what seems like the first time. 

The more Mickey thinks about it, the shittier he feels. He destroyed someone's body. The entirety of his thighs are ruined, he can hardly see the pale skin anymore. A few are still healing from when he reopened them, but mostly they're pink and healing and puffy. He can't think about them on someone else's body. His soulmate, who's supposed to love him more than anyone in the whole world. But how could they love him after this?  
He thinks of some fragile girl (because he knows damn well he doesn't get to spend the rest of his life with a boy) who wants to wear shorts but now can't. Because of him.  
He hates himself. For a lot. He thinks. Maybe for everything. 

Ian's never felt insecure about the scars. They're his soulmates, something they share together and it seems like his soulmate is getting better. The cuts appear less often, and he's never felt so proud. He doesn't care about the scars covering the majority of his thighs, biceps or even the scattered few on his left forearm, because his soulmate survived and doesn't do it anymore. He doesn't think anything of it when Mandy invites him to go on a run with her and her brothers, up north. It's all the way on the edge of Michigan, but it's a nice house and they're staying a couple days. Technically it's some distant relatives place, but they owed Terry money, and while they were on vacation, they were going to take what was owed. 

Mickey drives, Ian sitting in the passenger seat, Lip and Mandy making out in the back seat.  
"This is gonna be awesome! Mandy said they have a pool! Do you know the last time I swam in an actual pool that wasn't absolutely disgusting?"  
"You know this ain't a vacation right?" Mickey snaps.  
"Yeah to everyone but you."  
"We're here to do a job."  
"A job that's gonna take 3 days?" Ian asks, eyebrow raised.  
"Shut up." Mickey mumbles.  
"You're gonna start having fun eventually."  
"Whatever you say." 

It's awhile later, when Ian spots an ice cream shop with a huge ice cream cone out front. He pulls his feet off the dash and sits up.  
"Let's stop for ice cream!"  
Mickey shakes his head,  
"Absolutely not, we're only forty five minutes away."  
"Come on!" Ian pouts.  
"No, I'm sure there's food at the house." "Not ice cream!"  
"Yeah Mick," Mandy joins in. "I'm hungry.""  
"And I gotta take a piss." Lip says.  
Mickey groans, and takes the next turn, ignoring the smirk on Ian's face. 

The ice cream shop is busy for it being early afternoon on a Thursday, and the four of them joined the back of the line. Lip and Mandy were whispering among themselves so Ian turned to Mickey.  
"What kind of ice cream are you getting?"  
"Not getting any stupid ice cream." Mickey didn't really like Ian, he was too annoying and perky all the time, and whenever Mickey snaps at him, he ends up sounding like a pouty two year old. A hot pouty two year old.  
"Why not?" Ian asks, like he can't fathom the fact someone wouldn't want ice cream .  
"Cause I just don't."  
Ian twists his mouth to the side, appraising Mickey. Mickey twitches under his scrutiny.  
"If this is about money, I can buy. I have some money from work-"  
"I know where you work, Jesus Christ Gallagher. I ain't taking your money." He had money in his own pocket anyway. 

Ian presses his lips together, and nods once, turning away from Mickey to stare ahead at the ice cream in the glass case. Mickey tries to taper down the feeling of guilt that spreads. It's funny how the first thing he does is dig deeper into his pocket for a razor blade. He's not going to use it of course, but the rigid way Ian's standing in front of him, fingers twitching, makes his own fingers itch for a blade. He hasn't cut in awhile, and his patience is wearing thin. 

The lady takes Ian's order, blue moon in a cone, how ridiculous for a seventeen year old, and then collects his money. He stands to the side as Mickey orders, plain chocolate, and then Lip and Mandy get a sundae to share. They take a booth near the back, Lip and Mandy practically in each others laps, Ian pushed up against the inside as far as he can. They don't talk, Ian just licking his ice cream intently, smearing blue all over his mouth. Mickey can't help but think he's kind of cute, when he's not talking. He immediately cringes at the thought, scratching over his most recent scar on his wrist. Ian makes a noise, but when Mickey looks at him, he's just licking the spilled ice cream off his fingers. Mickey looks away. 

Mickey's eager to get back on the road, so when Ian asks who wants to take a picture with him in front of the giant ice cream cone, he rolls his eyes. Mandy volunteers and Ian hands Mickey his phone, and Mandy and Ian squeeze together next to the towering ice cream cone. He takes a shitty picture, one be knows won't turn out and plans to blame it on the shitty flip phone quality. Ian smiles at him and thanks him, mouth still tinged blue as he climbs into the car. They're pulling out of the parking lot when Ian checks the picture. It's blurred, and obvious that Mickey didn't stand still for the picture to take. He sighs, bites his lip in disappointment and snuggles back into the seat for the rest of the ride. 

Okay, yeah Mickey'd felt guilty when he saw the look on Ian's face when he saw the picture hadn't turned out, and yeah Mickey was being a dick, but that's the way he was now. They were almost to the house anyway and now it wouldn't matter.  
The house is nice, big with a wrap around porch, and a long drive way. They end up parking down the street, and hauling their stuff into the house. The neighbors are separated by trees, but a car in the driveway would be suspicious. 

There's plenty of bedrooms to choose from, and within ten minutes of breaking in the back door, everyone has one. Lip and Mandy took the one in the basement, while Mickey and Ian each took a room on the second floor. Everyone's exhausted so once all their stuff is in their bedrooms, they all decide to retire for the evening. 

"Let's hit the pool and get drunk." Mandy suggests the following afternoon, making her way downstairs and grabbing a beer out of the fridge. "Lip's got some joints he'd be willing to share."  
"Sounds good to me, it's hot as hell." Ian says.  
"I ain't swimming." Mickey grumbles, lighting a cigarette.  
"You're no fun." Ian pouts.  
"Sorry I don't act like a hyperactive spaz all the fucking time." Mickey huffs, taking a drag.  
Ian's eyes widen, and he stiffens, before turning and heading to his room. Mickey doesn't have time to react before Mandy's smacking him upside the head,  
"Asshole!"  
Mickey just rolls his eyes. 

It turns out, after a few hours, he misses Ian's company. He's explored the house, due to wanting to drown out Mandy and Lip's loud fucking, and hunted down food for them, but he's bored out of his mind, and it's too hot to just watch TV in a non air conditioned house. Although Ian had been a little hyper, he'd at least kept Mickey occupied. Now, walking around, lonely with his thoughts, he wanted to cut more than ever. Deep down he knew why he was such a dick to Ian, of course he fucking did. If he allowed himself to be nice to Ian, let Ian talk to him, actually talk to him, then there was no way he'd be able to help it. No way he'd be able to hide being gay. The thought was too much for him to handle, and he locked himself in the nearest bathroom. 

Avoiding the mirror, he rested on the counter, one hand yanking at his pants to get them down his legs. Razor poised in hand, he goes at his lower thigh where his boxers aren't covering. The skin there is mostly old scar tissue, so he presses hard to make sure it cuts as deep as he wants. He hisses as the blood drips down his leg, and tries not to think about Ian's freckles. 

He's cleaned up as best he can, wincing as he leaves the bathroom, he went a little deeper than he'd planned. It's nearing dinner time, so he gets the burgers and corn, they'd brought out of the fridge, and starts preparing to grill. The backyard is probably better than the entire house combined, a huge wooden fence, underground pool, hot tub, playground, and grill and bonfire pit. Mickey wonders how anyone related to Terry can afford all this shit. 

Mickey jumps in surprise when Mandy taps his shoulder, he'd been cooking burgers and corn, drifting off because he had drove the entire way here and was kind of exhausted,  
"What the fuck?"  
"Sorry! Ian and I are just coming to swim. Lip went to go find more weed cause apparently there's only one joint left."  
"Fine by me." Mickey shrugs.  
Mandy sashays over to a chair and lays out her towel, pulling her dress over her head and leaving her in a small black bikini. Mickey notices she has a few more tattoos than she did last time and he makes note to ask her about them, some other time. Because he likes to torture himself, he watches as Ian pulls off his jeans, and reveals a pair of bright blue swim trunks. He can't look away, as Ian pulls off his shirt, carrying on a conversation with Mandy. 

With Ian distracted, he takes the opportunity to stare as much as he wants. Ian's muscles are amazing to be honest. Freckles fall down his shoulders to his biceps. He's got a freaking six pack! Mickey's eyes follow his abs, down to the thin trail of hair that leads down to the top of his shorts; which are hanging quite low on his hips. He's focusing on Ian's treasure trail, trying to commit it to memory for later, no matter how fucked up that is; when something catches his eye. Right on the cut of Ian's hip is a series of cuts that Mickey recognizes all too well. Why in the hell did Ian cut himself? He seemed so happy all the time. 

Mandy's rubbing sunscreen on Ian's back, and Mickey's still staring hard at the scars on Ian's hip.  
"God, will you pull these up, I don't wanna see your pale ass again!"  
Ian rolls his eyes, but yanks his trunks up, and Mickey drops the burger he'd been flipping and the spatula. It clatters to the brick patio and Ian and Mandy look over at him.  
"You okay?"  
Mickey nods, eyes still locked on Ian's right thigh where the angry red, still bloody scars are. The scars that Mickey had just created. Mother fucker. 

Ian notices where Mickey's staring and his face gets red, and Mickey immediately feels like a piece of shit.  
"Um," He rubs at the back of his neck. "It's my soulmate. They're having a really bad time right now."  
Mickey doesn't know what to say.  
"God, again Ian?" Mandy asks, a hard edge in her voice.  
"Yeah, it's fine. It's just that they'd been doing so well lately, I was so proud." Mickey bites at his lip so he doesn't say anything stupid.  
"Well whoever the fuck she is, she needs to get it the hell together, she's ruining your body! Now you're gonna have to be with her, cause who wants someone with all those nasty scars?"  
Mickey shoves his hands in his pockets; fingers pressing on the blade, just to remind himself it's there if he needs it. 

"First of all, it doesn't have to be a girl." Ian rolls his eyes. "You know I'm bisexual. And it's not like they do it on purpose. Obviously they're having a really hard time and don't have anyone to talk to. And fyi Mandy, not only girls cut themselves. Plenty of guys do it too."  
"Pretty soon you're gonna be covered in those scars." Mandy says scrunching her nose.  
"It's not like I'm embarrassed of them. They show survival. And I can tell they're really trying, like honestly this is the first time in awhile. I just wish I could meet them, and tell them I love them, and they don't have to do this." Ian's voice has gotten a bit thick and Mickey turns back to the grill, feeling like he's intruding on something he shouldn't. 

"I know Ian. I just wish you didn't have all these scars. What's the doctor who does your physical for the army gonna say? If they think you're suicidal?"  
Mickey tunes them out then, hand shaking as he tries to flip a burger. 

He knew it. He knew he'd ruin someone's live. This whole soulmate thing was absolute bullshit. First of all, the fact that neither soulmates connected until both parties turned fifteen, which was problematic. In fact, it was exactly what had happened to Mickey. He hadn't worried about ruining someone else's body, because when he went four years without a single mark, he knew he didn't get one. Of course this now made sense, considering Ian was four years younger than him, and marks wouldn't appear on the opposite soulmates body, until both were fifteen. So that meant four years ago when he started cutting himself, once Ian's birthday passed, every scar that Mickey carved into his skin, appeared on Ian. Fuck. The world had been in his favor and gave him a boy, but Mickey had to be stupid and destroy the boys body. Mandy was right, no one would want anyone with as many scars as that, and Ian would resent him for giving them to him. The thought made him want to cut, and he groaned, that was exactly his problem. He's got to stop acting like a little bitch. 

"You okay over there?" Ian calls. "Smells like something's burning."  
Mickey rolls his eyes,  
"Sorry got distracted thinking about what a pussy your soulmate must be. If they're gonna kill themselves they might as well do it, no reason to bring everyone down with them, am I right?"  
Ian's mouth drops, and he glares at Mickey, before rushing into the house. Mandy flips him off, smacking him upside the head as she passes him, running after Ian. The twist in his gut, feels almost as good as a razor. He flips the slightly burnt burgers, and convinces himself he's not good enough for Ian. It doesn't take much. 

He hadn't been expecting a family sit down dinner or anything, but he hadn't expected Lip, Mandy and a red eyed Ian to make their plates and head out to sit at the picnic table on the patio, making it clear he wasn't invited. He sighs, and leaves his food on the counter, heading up to the bathroom. He turns on the shower and sits on the toilet seat. Now that he knows Ian's his soulmate, it wouldn't be very smart to cut, knowing it would appear on Ian's body, so he holds the thin blade, flipping it back and forth between his fingers. Letting it press against the pads of his fingers, just light enough to not cut. When he gets bored of that, he traces over the "I love you" that had been carved into his skin almost two years ago. It hadn't been done with much force so it's faded a ton. Of course Mickey had memorized every jagged gash of it, not believing anyone actually cared about him. Of course now that he knew it was Ian Gallagher, it made his stomach churn. 

Once the steam gets thick enough to where it takes effort for him to  
breathe, Mickey sheds his clothes and gets in the shower. He stands under the spray for a long time before he even starts to wash up. After awhile, he steps out of the shower, skin pink from the heat, a few broken open scars from the way he was scrubbing at them. He's busy trying not to slip because what idiots don't have a bath mat, when the door swings open, revealing a pink cheeked Ian Gallagher.  
"What the fuck?!" Mickey yells, grabbing his towel off of the toilet and covering his dick and thighs. 

"Sorry, I was knocking and you weren't answering and-" He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he stares. Mickey shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what he's staring at, until he looks down too. In his haste to cover up his dick and the worst of his scars, he'd left his entire hip exposed. "Did you-"  
"Shut the fuck up." Mickey growls.  
"You? You're my-"  
"I said shut the fuck up." Mickey hitches the towel up and around his hips, which of course just exposes the raw cuts on his thighs.  
Ian's eyes are wide and his lower lip is trembling,  
"Mickey oh my god. What can I-? Can I help you? Oh my god its you." He breathes out, crossing the bathroom to stand in front of Mickey, fingers hovering above his wet chest. "I'm so sorry that you think you have to do this. I'm here now, I'm here now. It's okay." Ian chokes out, hand finally resting on Mickey's upper arm. 

Mickey jerks back as if he'd been shocked, and before Ian can make sense of what's happening, Mickey's got him pressed against the counter, something sharp pressed against his neck. Mickey's fairly strong and Ian feels wetness at the spot on his neck,  
"Tell anyone about this and I'll slit your fucking throat." 

Mickey changes into a hoodie and jeans, and when he gets downstairs, Mandy's sitting on the couch as Ian cries into his chest, rubbing his back.  
"Mick, thank god. We gotta go. Iggy texted and said Claude and the kids are gonna be home soon. We've gotta get out of here. Pack your shit." She says, all the while running a hand through Ian's hair. Mickey fights the urge to vomit and heads upstairs to pack his things. 

They're all packed into the car an hour later, Mandy and Ian in the back and Lip in the passenger seat while Mickey drives. Ian and Mandy talk in hushed tones and Mickey tries not to let it bother him too much. The ride seems to take much longer than it did to get there, especially since Mickey makes no stops. He stops at the Gallagher's first, and it's early morning when Lip helps a sleepy Ian out of the car and into the house. The image of his pale throat with crusted with dried blood will forever be branded in Mickey's brain. 

Once they arrive home, he carries a sleeping Mandy into her bed, gets all their things in the house, and then collapses in his own bed, exhausted from the turmoil of the short weekend. 

Because Mickey likes to torture himself, he continues to go to the Kash and Grab. He keeps on stealing, always waiting for Ian to say something to him, but Ian just stares at him with a puppy dog pleading look, that makes it hard to breathe. Most days, after he leaves the store, he sits out on the roof ledge right outside his bedroom window, smokes, drinks and cuts, all the while thinking of Ian. The most fucked up thing is that Ian never says anything. Even when the cuts move to his forearms, deeper than ever and dangerously close to the veins in his wrist. He's not sure if he wants him to or not. All he knows is he's not allowed to be okay, and Ian's not allowed to love him because he destroyed his otherwise perfect body. 

Mandy and Ian still hang out, and as far as Mickey knows, Mandy doesn't know who Ian's soulmate is. She just clucks her tongue, and traces over Ian's new scars every time she sees them. Mickey will pull at his sweater sleeves and leave the room when he sees that. He knows his sister would do the same to him, if he just told her. She'd probably understand even more than he thought, but there was no way he could tell anyone, because that meant he would have to explain he was gay, which he didn't want to. Mostly because he was still trying to fix that. 

The tension all came to a head one day, when Mandy and Ian were playing video games in the living room. It was a random August day, hot as shit outside, Ian shirtless and Mandy in just a bra, when Mickey came in from a run. He was sweating through his long sleeve shirt, and ready to shower.  
"Mick come play with us!" Mandy said.  
"Naw I'm good."  
"Cmon Mickey." Ian said without looking at him. It was the first time he'd addressed him in months. He shrugs before sitting on the other side of Ian, picking up a remote off the coffee table. 

Mickey can't help but stare at Ian's scared arms as he plays. Ian doesn't seem bothered that his scars are on display, instead bitching at Mandy for killing his character. Mickey wishes he could be like that. Not care what others thought, but unfortunately he wasn't made like that. Ian doesn't seem at all distracted that Mickey's sitting next to him, thigh pressed against his. Mickey's a bit nervous, if only because he feels like Ian's gonna blurt out their gay lovers together. After awhile, Ian seems to sense his tension because he nudges Mickey softly with his shoulder, and places a hand on his thigh. Mickey wants to be okay with it, but it feels too much like 'I'm here, you're okay, it's okay to want this' and he yanks away,  
"What the fuck? Get your gay faggot hands off of me!" 

Ian flinches away and Mandy throws her remote across the room,  
"What the fuck? You don't get to talk to my friends anyway you want, you homophobic piece of shit! You're no better than your father! He hasn't done anything to you and who cares if he's bisexual? Not everyone's attracted to you Mickey! First of all you're a massive asshole and you look like you haven't showered in a week!" It's like Mandy's been sitting on her feelings since he'd first made a comment when he found out about the scars. Mickey jumps to his feet,  
"Shut up you fucking bitch! You don't know shit about me!" 

"I know that you stomp around here mad at the world, you think everyone's out to get you! You're never sober, you go on more drug runs than dad these days! You have no friends, no one wants to be around you because you're a grumpy prick all the time. So you don't get to come in here and treat my friends like shit. I let you do that to me enough."  
Mickey doesn't say anything, eyes flicking between Mandy and Ian. Ian had stood up and stood half way between Mickey, and Mandy whose chest was heaving for all her yelling.  
"You know what, I don't need this shit. Stay here, waiting for your little cock sucking friend to grow some balls and ask you out, which news flash Mandy, he doesn't want you! You hang out with him all the time, hell you barely have clothes on right now and guess what he still doesn't want you! He may be bisexual but he still doesn't want your slutty ass. You know why, because you're damaged goods. You're ruined, just like me. Fucked for life baby sister." 

Mandy stares at him, eyes wide and Mickey shoves past Ian to get to the door. As soon as he's within arms reach, she punches him in the jaw. Not a sharp stinging slap, but a full fisted punch, like he'd taught her to do when she was nine. He staggers back slightly, meeting her watery eyes. She glares at him, as Ian grabs her arms as if he thinks she's going to hit him again.  
"Get out Mickey." Ian says harshly. 

Okay, Mandy's his sister. His only sibling he cares about. The only person he loves more than anything. Someone he'd been protecting his entire life. But he hates himself so much he doesn't care anymore. He's so disgusting, trying to convince himself Ian's not gorgeous and he doesn't want him, yet getting drunk and bleeding all over his window sill hoping Ian will tell him to stop again. As if Ian could save him. As if Ian wanted  
to save him. After all the shit Mickey pulled, not even the cutting, but the repeated homophobic comments and just the over all being a douche, not to mention how he treated Mandy. Oh god, Mandy. He takes another gulp of vodka and relishes in the burn of it as it slides down his throat. She's right. He's a terrible person. He's no better than his father, a disgusting homophobic pig who makes everyone around him miserable. He's not even worth anything, and he ruins anyone who tries to get close to him, even his own sister. He doesn't deserve Ian. He doesn't deserve anyone.  
He tips back the bottle to get more of the sweet numbing liquid, but curses when he sees it's gone. Never mind he'd just bought the bottle a couple hours ago, he slams it on the roof next to him. The glass shattering over the concrete. He hadn't really known anywhere to go, so he'd wandered around a little bit, got some booze, a little coke and headed up to the roof where he spent most of his time.  
"God fucking dammit." He curses, rolling onto his feet. He gets off the roof and crawls in through his window. He stumbles through his room, and freezes on his way to the kitchen when he sees Mandy and Ian on the couch. 

Mandy's in Ian's lap, Ian running a hand through her hair.  
"He's right, I'm nothing but a slut and an alcoholic and I do drugs, and no one's ever gonna wanna be with me for real."  
"Mandy, that's not true. No matter what, you can still make it out of here. Remember, we told each other after school we were leaving."  
"I know, but that's so far away. I just can't believe he said that shit to me."  
"Try not to take it to heart Mands. He's got problems of his own, he's just mad at himself."  
"He's a disgusting little shit, that's what he is."  
Ian sighs,  
"I can't disagree with that right now." 

Mickey backs away slowly, hands shaking. It's a mix of the drugs and the alcohol and the fact both Ian and Mandy hate him, even though it's his fault, that makes him go to the kitchen and pull out a knife. 

***  
When Mickey wakes up, it's to someone poking at him.  
"The fuck?" He mumbles.  
"Are you awake hun? How are ya doing?" Mickey blinks at the harsh light to see a nurse in front of him. She's got obnoxiously blonde hair and she's smacking on gum.  
"What happened?" Mickey rasps. The nurse smiles sadly, and Mickey thinks she may be pretty underneath the indigo eyeshadow, and she holds up a cup of water to his mouth. Mickey sips through the straw,  
"What happened?"  
"You tried to kill yourself hun. It took them a long time to stitch up your wrists, and you lost a lot of blood."  
"Oh." Mickey says.  
"Don't worry honey, your soulmate's right down the hall."  
Mickey sits up, hand flying to his chest.  
"What the hell are you talking about?"  
"Sorry, I don't mean to assume, it's just that a boy came in with the same injury as you."  
Mickey's mouth drops,  
"Oh my fuck."  
"Relax hun, he's fine. Doing much better than you, up walking and talking since yesterday." 

Mickey raises an eyebrow,  
"How long have I been out?"  
"About three days. Like I said, you lost a lot of blood. And I mostly think you didn't wanna wake up."  
Mickey bites his lip, running a hand through his hair.  
"You're gonna be fine now, hun. There's a girl whose been here this entire time. Is it alright if I let her in?"  
Mickey nods, finally looking down at his thickly bandaged wrists. 

A few minutes later, Mandy walks in. Her hairs ratted, face bare of makeup, and dressed in sweats that are nearly falling off her body. She wrings her hands together, and makes her way to Mickey's side. Mickey expects her to sit in the chair next to his bed, but instead she sits on the edge of his bed. She places an hand on Mickey's arm, fingers tracing over his bandages.  
"You almost died. You were so fucking close Mickey. I-I, why didn't you tell me?" She whispers.  
"What was I supposed to say?"  
"How about you start with the fact Ian's your soulmate?"  
"Is he okay?" Mickey mumbles into Mandy's hair.  
"Well considering he almost bled out on our couch, I'd say he's fine."  
"I'm sorry."  
"It's fine."  
"No, I was so so horrible to you, and then I almost killed your friend."  
"Mickey, when are you going to realize that I care about you too? I care about whether you live or die Micheal. Of course I do. You need to talk to Ian. You need to fix this."  
"There's nothing to say. He has all these disgusting scars, I almost killed him because I couldn't handle myself. He hates me."  
"He doesn't hate you Mickey. He wants to make sure you're okay. He's visited you several times since he woke up. I don't think he even realizes he almost died too." 

Mickey sighs, and Mandy wraps her arms around him,  
"You can't just kill yourself when life's hard, you have to stay here and fight like the rest of us. You can do it. I promise you, you can do it. We're gonna be okay, we can make it. You just need to talk to Ian."  
"You're sure he wants to talk to me?"  
"I'm sure."  
Mickey kisses her head,  
"Thank you. And I'm sorry."  
"Don't apologize, just don't try to kill yourself again." 

Mickey's been awake from his nap for about twenty minutes, when there's a knock on his door. Ian walks in, a sad smile on the face, despite his pale color and the thick bandages on his wrists.  
"How are you doing?"  
"Well I tried to kill myself and ended up almost killing someone else. So I'd say pretty fucking great."  
"Well hey, we didn't die, so that's good."  
Mickey rolls his eyes,  
"You're an idiot."  
Ian laughs,  
"But I got you to smile." Ian sits on the chair besides Mickey's bed.  
"Look, Ian, not only have I treated you like complete shit, but I almost killed you. And I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I'm glad you're okay. And I'm sorry about all the scars and everything. And I completely know you don't wanna be with me, even as friends. But I just wanted to apologize for screwing up your life, and almost ending it, you know." 

Ian sighs, placing his hand on Mickey's arm.  
"I don't want you to apologize for almost killing me. I want you to apologize for almost killing yourself. I don't want you to do that anymore, not because I don't want anymore scars, but because I don't want to have to look into your eyes and see you begging for me to say something to stop it."  
Mickey stares at his hands, clearly uncomfortable.  
"You obviously don't know me very well."  
"You know what, I don't. And I want to change that. I want to know you, the real you, not the you that you want everyone to think you are."  
"Why would you want that?" Mickey asks softly. 

Ian smiles softly, and tentatively reaches to push Mickey's hair out of his face.  
"Mickey I have loved you for a long time. I always felt so connected to my soulmate, and when you started cutting yourself, my heart broke. I had no clue who you were, or how I could help. The cuts just kept showing up, and the fact you were doing that yourself, hurt more than the cuts. When I found out it was you, I just earned to help and I didn't care that you weren't out, or that you were so mean to me. I'm here for you, even if you don't wanna talk now, or want to be in a relationship with me, if you ever need anything, I'm here."  
"I'm not worth it. I ruined your body and I-"  
"Stop, stop. Please."  
"You hate me."  
"Mickey, of course I don't hate you. I just got done saying how much I love you."  
"You said that you loved me before you knew who I was." 

"No, I still love you now. You're my soulmate, and I want you to be okay."  
"What am I gonna do? I fucking tried to kill myself." Mickey rubs his eyes.  
"We're going to get through it. You're going to talk to a counselor, and get out of your dad's house, and talk to me or Mandy anytime you want to hurt yourself. We're going to work on talking to each other, being friends first, and hopefully our relationship will help."  
"So you don't want to date me?"  
"Of course I want to date you, but not now. I don't think either of us are ready for that. You need to become more accepting of yourself. I assume the cutting has something to do with being gay."  
"Of course it does. Being gay isn't okay here, you of all people should know that."  
"Then we'll leave, we'll go somewhere where you can be out and comfortable. Now that I've found you, I'm never letting you go. The cutting is going to stop, the hating yourself is going to stop, because I love you, and you're too good for that." Ian says, squeezing his hand. 

"How many times are you going to say that?"  
"I love you? As many times as it takes for you to believe it."  
Mickey tries to taper down a smile, when Ian stands up,  
"Can I hug you?"  
Mickey nods, he hasn't been hugged by someone who wasn't Mandy, in years. Ian holds him tight, on hand cradling the back of his head, where it rests against his shoulder.  
"Hey Ian?" Mickey asks.  
"Yes?"  
"I'm sorry I tried to kill myself." Mickey breathes into Ian's neck. 

It's a good start.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: Mickey-mousemilkovich


End file.
